


the rule of reciprocity

by Anonymous



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29806818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Fake date me.”It wasn’t a question; it was an order, a demand and Jeongin realises as such when he catches sight of the jeep parked right outside the library through the floor to ceiling windows. The realisation dawns on him then.I owe you oneplays in his head like a broken record, bouncing from left to right in his brain. Now, he truly set himself up with this.I owe you one.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 10
Kudos: 99
Collections: AGIBBANG FEST





	the rule of reciprocity

**Author's Note:**

> #0094: Jeongin owes Person B, who he finds slightly annoying, a favour. Person B asks Jeongin to be his fake date for a family dinner. 
> 
> thank u to the prompter for this! i hope i didn't stray too far from what you had in mind hehe and also thank u to mod yeni for being the bestest most patient & wonderful mod out there ( ु•⌄• )✧♡

Jeongin doesn’t really know how it has come to this: his shoulder and knee is pressed against Jisung’s in a dimly lit roomful of Hans and how he has been pretending to have actual romantic feelings for Jisung for the past few hours, twice now. At least that’s what Jisung might think — that this was all just pretend. That he’s holding Jisung’s hand as orchestrated, just because it was in the script when in actuality it is what he wants. To hold Jisung’s hand. If Jeongin were honest, which he really should have been from the very beginning, he’s been in love with Jisung far more than a few measly hours on a Saturday night; no pretence. If he were to reach deep within him, tug his heart out and split it open, he’d find Jisung spilling over in his palms.

But Jisung doesn’t know this. Not yet, not then, and definitely not now. Soon, maybe. Jeongin swallows, mind far gone from the movie playing in front of him as he shoves his heart back down his throat and squeezes his fingers around Jisung’s. This is pretend. Jisung looks at him, away from the screen and squeezes back.

“You okay?” Jisung asks. He’s so goddamn annoying, always has been and even worse now. Why did he have to be so fucking caring. So fucking nice. Why did he have to be so embarrassingly easy to fall for. Jeongin turns his head slowly, eyes locked with Jisung’s wide, inquiring ones and nods.

This is pretend. Jisung’s mother might be looking their way. This is pretend.

“Yeah,” Jeongin lies, “I’m okay.”

⏪

The first mistake Jeongin made in his 20 years of living is befriending Jisung from across the hall. The second is asking Jisung for a ride back to their college in Seoul when he was in Busan for a holiday.

Frankly, Jeongin was fine with lugging all his luggages back from Busan to Seoul through the KTX like he has been doing for the past semesters but seeing Jisung spending the last few days of his summer break in Busan, of course he jumped at the opportunity. They weren’t close per se, admittedly, they’re the least closest to each other in their friend group. But even then, they were friends and it is without a doubt that Jisung thinks so, too, when the next day his jeep is parked outside his apartment block.

Jisung greeted him with a cheesy grin, sunglasses hanging right at the tip of his nose.

“I owe you one,” Jeongin laughed as they both dumped his last luggage into the back of his jeep, Jisung panting like he was the one that went up and down the apartment for his luggage.

“Sure,” was Jisung’s easy reply and they left it at that. Jisung never brought it up and Jeongin, well, he’s the youngest, wasn’t he? He thought he could get away with it, unscathed.

Until two months later, where Jeongin scribbles down the third mistake in his list.

“Fake date me.”

It wasn’t a question; it was an order, a demand and Jeongin realises as such when he catches sight of the jeep parked right outside the library through the floor to ceiling windows. The realisation dawns on him then. _I owe you one_ plays in his head like a broken record, bouncing from left to right in his brain. Now, he truly set himself up with this. _I owe you one_.

“Sorry, for using your favour like this,” Jisung rushes through. At least he sounded apologetic, even though the desperation in his voice overrides it tremendously. It’s a Tuesday evening. Jeongin had just clicked submit answers to his online quiz, closed his laptop shut when a frantic looking Jisung burst through the library doors, eyes searching for someone, until his eyes fell on Jeongin.

Bullseye.

“But I’m desperate here,” he says, sounding exactly like it. They’re standing by one of the huge pillars outside the library, Jisung’s hand still wrapped around Jeongin’s wrist when he dragged him out earlier. Jeongin stares, nodding.

“Clearly,” he says quietly.

“Right.” Jisung lets go of Jeongin. “It’ll just be one night, one dinner at my family’s. My parents are flying back from Malaysia and I, well, I told them I had a boyfriend to just...not have them set me up with anyone like they always do when they’re back home.” His eyes flicker towards Jeongin’s. “And I just...I came to you.”

Huh. Okay. Jeongin doesn’t really know how to respond to that. Sure, he owes Jisung one and sure, it’s just one dinner after all. But he can’t help the butterflies that flutter about across his front, starting from his stomach to his chest. He doesn’t say anything.

It’s one dinner.

Which is _free_.

And let’s look at the bigger picture. Jeongin is a broke college student who runs exclusively on a ramen-cola diet with a smattering of water and when he’s feeling a little bit #selflove that day, he'd grab a granola bar. But he’s still a broke college student at the end of the day and here is Jisung handing him an offer of a homemade meal by his mother for a small price of playing boyfriend.

So naturally, Jeongin says, “I’ll do it.”

His third mistake, written in bright red bold letters.

The thing about fake dating is that Jeongin has no idea what the fuck were they supposed to do. To simply put it, Jeongin has never dated anyone seriously — so how could their fake relationship be even a fraction convincing to Jisung’s family, the very ones that know him well enough to point out the crooked lines in their relationship.

Jeongin doesn’t even know Jisung that well beyond his birthdate. And even then he confuses it with Felix’s still — who comes first, really? No one knows. Not him.

“I think,” Jisung tells him, scooting closer to him on the couch in their common area until they’re side to side. It’s two days till Free Dinner and he realises it now that they haven’t discussed anything besides the fact that Jeongin was to be his date for the night. Jeongin puts his laptop down and Jisung continues. Says, “I think we need to set some ground rules and then, uh, a backstory.”

Jeongin’s eyebrows raise at that. “A backstory?”

“We have to be believable,” Jisung points out, pulling up the Notes app on his phone. Okay, yeah, that’s fair. He wouldn’t know what he’d do if his family suddenly starts pouncing on him on the whens, hows, whys of their relationship. Even if it’s fake, it has to at least be believable, right? Right. Jeongin watches as Jisung types out _FAKE DATING CONTRACT._ He laughs.

Jisung elbows his side. “Hey hey hey, I’m making sure we’re both comfortable that night, okay? So, Jeongin—” he hands Jeongin his phone and nudges him on to type “—write whatever you don’t want in a relationship.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know. Are you fine with me holding your hand?”

Jeongin ponders. They have to come across as real anyway, so he nods.

“Oh, no kisses,” he says, face scrunched up. It’s just weird to think of kissing, well, Jisung. He shudders as he types out _1\. NO KISSING_.

“Okay,” Jisung laughs, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair, “in all-caps. I get it. Anything more?”

That’s how they spend the rest of the night, both hovering over Jisung’s phone, typing the rules of the contract so very seriously until they’re halfway down the list when Jisung types out: _6\. NO POLKA-DOTS, 7. THIS IS AN ANTI-VANS HOUSEHOLD, ONLY WEAR CONVERSE_. Jeongin adds lastly, for the shits and giggles: _10\. DO NOT FALL IN LOVE LOL_.

“That’d be easy for me but how about you? Trying so hard to resist—” Jisung gestures at himself, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face “—all of this?”

Jeongin laughs openly and shoves Jisung further away from him.

“Why are you two cuddling on the couch?” comes Felix’s voice, cutting through their bubble. Jeongin looks at Jisung, only to find him already looking at him, suddenly realising how close they were. Jisung’s leg is thrown across Jeongin’s knee, one hand by the back of Jeongin’s neck. He didn't even realise when this all had happened.

They both pull apart quickly, like burnt, and laugh, sounding a little off.

“Nothing,” Jisung replies, leaning back against the couch to shoot a grin at Felix. Felix looks unconvinced but doesn’t push, just shrugs and walks around the couch, throwing himself onto Jisung. “Oof.”

“You know Innie doesn’t like cuddles! Cuddle with me instead!” Felix squeaks out, arms coming around to wrap themselves around Jisung’s middle. Jeongin just stares at them, amused and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Jisung-hyung, you should know that by now,” Jeongin retorts, gathering his things in his arms. He has to leave — he’s getting too comfortable.

“But I love annoying you!” Jisung manages out, voice strained at the weight of Felix on his chest. Felix looks so peaceful, eyes squeezed shut as he squeezes the life out of Jisung.

“And that you are, hyung,” he says, finally standing up and making his way to his room.

Somehow that night, even as Seungmin snores peacefully in the bed opposite his, he’s wide awake. The back of his neck burns like a torch and then he remembers _JisungJisungJisung_ until he drifts to sleep.

Some time between his first week as a freshman, baby cheeks still alive and well, he had met Jisung from across the hall and Jeongin thought he finally knew what angels look like. Because here Jisung was, standing right in front of him, skateboard in hand, as he stared blankly at Jeongin. He was all golden and bright, somewhat ethereal. And then he cocked his head to the side and Jeongin felt his heart slowly melting away.

It was somewhat a love at first sight kinda thing until Jisung opened his mouth and called him a baby and continued to do so for the entire semester. Jeongin realised soon enough that while he slipped his way into Jisung’s friend group fine, playing the role of the baby, he’ll never be anything else but that.

So he gives it up and groans every time Jisung calls him a baby.

“Just so you know, I still don’t like you,” Jeongin tells him as he makes his way out of his room, shrugging on his denim jacket as he does so. He closes his dorm room door shut behind him, turning the key in to lock. Jisung laughs.

“Okay, baby,” Jisung coos, “and you’re still just a little baby! Aw, look at you go. On your first fake date!” There’s a pause then, before Jisung does a quick gasp right as he turns around to face him. Fuck. “You’re not wearing Vans!”

Of course, he isn’t. He’s wearing bright ass pink chucks instead because it said so in the contract that the house was anti-Vans. So of course he isn’t wearing Vans.

Jisung is standing there in all his short ass glory in a simple button down and some slacks, nothing new whatsoever but rare enough for Jeongin to give another onceover. And his _hair_.

“When did you dye your hair?” Jeongin asks instead, still shocked at his bleached blonde hair, styled to show his forehead. Again; nothing new, but rare enough. Jisung runs his hand through his hair with a wide grin.

“Yesterday! Hyunjin and Felix helped,” he replies, “Wanted to give my parents another little surprise.”

“Another?”

“I mean,” Jisung laughs, gesturing at Jeongin, “you’re kind of a surprise, too.”

“Oh.” Jeongin feels warmth spreading across his face. “I am, huh.”

From their dorm all the way to Jisung’s home, tucked somewhere between city life and the suburbs of Seoul, they take Jisung’s jeep despite the horrible weekend traffic. Jeongin insists on stopping by a florist for Jisung’s mum because he didn’t want to look like a shitty boyfriend, meeting his parents for the first time empty-handed. This might be fake but he can sure as hell play as an award-winning actor of the relationship.

“Oh, wow,” Jisung mutters in surprise when Jeongin slides back into the passenger seat, bearing a simple bouquet of lilies and irises. Jeongin looks up at Jisung, humming. “Those are my mum’s favourites. Are you sure you’ve never been on a date?”

The question is rhetorical, Jeongin knows this, but he nods his head, yes, anyway and smiles.

“Am I doing good on my first date?” He asks, strapping the seatbelt across his body, gently holding onto the bouquet.

“Yeah,” Jisung lets out shakily, smiling, as he swerves back into the main street, eyes sparkling. “You’re doing really good.”

If you were to tell Jeongin he’d be sitting next to Jisung at his home, right across his parents and brother on a Saturday evening, he’d ask you if you were okay, if you were on psychedelics or on any mind-altering drugs because what the fuck there is no way that’d ever happen in his life.

But here he is, anyway. Jisung’s mother clears her throat and picks up some pieces of meat and places it on top of his rice bowl. This is awful. He feels so fucking awful. No promises of free dinners could compensate for the fact that Jisung’s mother looked so genuinely besotted by him and the fact that he is her son's (fake) boyfriend. He feels sick. He shouldn’t have gotten her a bouquet of flowers. Then maybe it was easier to lie through his teeth.

Now the flowers sit in a vase right by the kitchen. A little bit of Jeongin in a roomful of Hans.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, stomach churning uncomfortably. He really does feel sick. He’s not fit for this business — to lie so shamelessly in front of Jisung’s fucking family. They weren’t even in love. Not even slightly. He feels so—

“Hey,” Jisung calls him out, hand coming down to squeeze his knee, “are you okay? You seem out of it.”

Jeongin manages out a smile. “No, I—”

“He’s so nervous, oh dear. How sweet of him,” Jisung’s mum coos, a hand coming up to place on her cheek. Jeongin actually manages a genuine smile at that, reminded of his own mother back in Busan doing the same thing when she’s endeared. Fuck. She’s endeared by _him_. She continues, looking at Jisung, “Aigoo, and to think you both have only been dating for a month.”

This is what Jisung and Jeongin have settled with. Their backstory goes like this: the both of them got closer on the Busan road trip back to college, started to hang out more often from then on until they both at the same time asked each other out. It was easier that way and it sounded straight out of a B-grade webtoon titled something equally as cheesy like _Right Time_ or something worse. So they’ve been dating for a month.

“You don’t have to be, kid,” Jisung’s dad says with a smile that reaches his eyes in crescent moons. “Pretend we’re family.”

Pretend. Right. That’s what Jisung and him are doing anyway.

Later when dinner’s done and after almost fighting Jisung’s mum to leave the dishes to him, Jisung’s brother comes by the sink.

“Cut the shit,” he says sharply, “both of you aren’t dating.”

Jeongin drops the mug he was holding onto into the soap water and freezes. Fuck. He thought he was doing good. They held hands and shit — what else was there to do to prove otherwise?

“I—”

“Jisung doesn’t date,” his brother points out. He rips a paper towel off, scrunches it up in his hands, and turns around to look at Jeongin. “Drop the act, I won’t tell my parents—”

“We are, hyung, oh my God. Stop grilling my boyfriend.” Jeongin feels a wave of relief wash over him as he turns to see Jisung walking towards him, eyes set in a glare to his brother. Somehow his heart picks up a little at Jisung calling him his boyfriend. Shit. “Leave him alone.”

“You two aren’t dating,” his brother points out again, squinting his eyes at Jisung.

“But we are,” Jisung replies curtly.

“Then why haven’t I seen you two kiss, huh?”

“Hyung, oh my God—”

Jeongin doesn’t know what compels him to do so but he’s afraid and most importantly, kind of ticked off at Jisung’s brother. So he did what he did, wrapping a soapy hand around Jisung’s wrist, pulling him close and landing a soft kiss against Jisung’s lips. Rule number one broken just like that.

“There,” he says as Jisung continues to stay frozen for a fraction of a second before he breaks into a grin at him. Then, Jeongin turns to his brother and says, “we’re dating, hyung. I promise you.”

Maybe he said that with a little too much conviction because all Jisung’s brother does is roll his eyes and walk away. The kitchen is silent for a while before Jeongin goes back to the dishes, picking up the mug from the soapwater. The silence is stifling, so Jeongin lets the water run from the tap. Arms wrap around his middle and before he knows it, the mug drops back into the water.

“Rule number one, Yang Jeongin. Tsk,” Jisung says against his shoulder like he was scolding him. But Jeongin doesn’t have to look to see that Jisung’s smiling, pressed against his shoulder.

“He was starting to piss me off,” Jeongin replies, picking the mug back and quickly rinsing it and putting it on the drying rack. His hands are shaking. “And I was kind of scared that he could, um, you know, tell.”

“Hmm.” Jeongin reaches for the bottom of the sink, unplugs the hole and watches as water swirls down into the drain, the remnants of suds and soap sticking to the bottom of the sink. “You kiss good.”

Jeongin barely holds in the wheeze he immediately lets out in half-shock, half-amusement. He wipes his hand on the towel and turns around in Jisung’s hold. He doesn’t let go, not even when their faces are inches apart. This is dangerous: Jisung’s breath against his cheek, just one swoop and they’ll kiss again. And Jeongin feels sick right down to his tippy toes. Unfortunate that he didn’t write down _11\. DON’T MAKE MY HEART FLUTTER ASSHOLE_ because that’s exactly what his heart does right this moment.

“Your mum cooked good. I had a good meal,” he says instead, watching the flutter of Jisung’s eyelashes against his cheeks. The air between them seems to buzz with electricity just moments before, similarly like the night in the common room. The buzzing immediately cuts off when Jisung lets him go, laughing.

“Then maybe you should tell her yourself,” Jisung says, coming to a stop by the vase of flowers Jeongin got his mum. He turns to look at Jeongin, a simple smile painted across his face. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I should,” he says as he exhales shakily, pushing himself away from the sink. He doesn’t get to go to Jisung before he exits the kitchen first. He doesn’t know why but he felt like he just missed something.

Jisung goes ghost on him right after the dinner somehow and Jeongin is lost. Rightfully so, too. Not when they ended the night with him and Jisung’s family playing rounds of Scrabble, his brother slowly warming up to him. He even gave him a half hug before he left. And Jisung held his hand as they walked towards his jeep. He thought the dinner ended well. Despite the awful feeling swirling at the bottom of his gut at the mere thought of having tricked his parents into playing the role of Jisung’s (fake) boyfriend, it went well. It went exactly how it was supposed to be.

Just—

He doesn’t know why he feels so empty, especially when Jisung isn’t even answering his texts.

`hyung!  
` `i forgot to tell u last night but  
` `thank u for inviting me to dinner  
` `believe it or not i had fun :p`

That was two days ago.

Jeongin tried to reason with himself. Maybe Jisung was busy with work and assignments steadily piling up over the weekend. Maybe he was busy with his family actually because when he finds Hyunjin in the common room alone, he asks for his roommate’s whereabouts.

“Oh, Jisung?” Hyunjin asks, not looking up from his iPad. On his screen is an intricate illustration of, well, something. Jeongin’s not a fine arts major but he knows enough to know that it’s pretty. He spins his stylus pen in his grip and hums. “He’s been out since morning classes. Visiting his parents again, maybe?”

“Hmm,” Jeongin hums as a response. It made sense, so he shakes his head from worrying too damn much about his one-time fake date.

“Hey, Jeongin. You and Jisung have been hanging out an awful lot lately, huh,” Hyunjin says, still not looking up at Jeongin, hand busy going left right up and down across his screen. Jeongin feels his cheeks warming up and clears his throat.

“I guess?”

“That’s nice.” He finally looks up at Jeongin, a smile on his face. Jeongin blinks. “Though don’t think I didn’t notice the both of you coming out of Jisung’s jeep the other night.” Jeongin’s eyes almost bulge out of his head. “Was the date fun?”

“I—” Jeongin sputters. They didn’t ever mention talking about it to their friends, either it was fake or not. “Hyung, I — it wasn’t—”

“Hey, it’s okay. I think you both would make a cute couple, you know, you being tsundere and all when you’re really just a big softie for him, huh?”

Jeongin groans, covering his ears with his hands because what the fuck. _What the fuck?_

“Good night, hyung!” He screeches when Hyunjin opens his mouth again. As Jeongin stomps away, he hears the remnants of Hyunjin’s laughter echoing throughout the corridor along with the beating of his heart thumping loudly against his chest.

Jisung’s reply comes a day later.

`hey jeongin  
` `dude im so sorry i was just so  
` `preoccupied with school i just  
` `didn’t check kkt :(  
` `but also um...i have smth to tell u`

Jeongin replies at an almost embarrassing speed. Despite living across each other, Jeongin hasn’t seen Jisung since the night of the dinner.

`yeah? what’s up`

`my mum wants to invite u to dinner again  
` `u can say no btw u dont rly owe me anything anymore  
` `i can just tell her ure busy or smth like that`

`no  
` `i’ll come  
` `this saturday too?`

`yeah`

“Why do you look so constipated?”

Jeongin looks up from his phone as Seungmin towels his wet hair dry. He wonders if he can tell Seungmin this. He drops his phone onto his lap, wringing his hands together as he sinks deeper into his head when he hears Seungmin laugh, pulling him out of his junk.

“Innie, are you seriously constipated?” When Jeongin doesn’t laugh as a response or throw a pillow at his face, Seungmin’s face falls. “Wait, seriously? Hold on, let me see if I have med—”

“I think I like Jisung-hyung,” Jeongin says quietly, almost sounding like a whisper. Seungmin stops in his motion of getting up before he slowly settles down back onto his bed, looking directly into Jeongin’s eyes. “No,” he corrects himself, shaking his head. “I like Jisung-hyung.”

“Okay,” Seungmin says slowly, quietly like he was talking to an injured animal. Jeongin feels like one, too, now that his heart is out in the open in his mouth. The truth’s out now; it’s real. His feelings are real. Shit. “Do you wanna tell me when this all started?”

So Jeongin tells him from the beginning of it all, when they first met across the hall. How he’d think Jisung will never look past him as nothing else but the baby of the group, the trip back to college, the dinner and then — well, now.

Seungmin’s a good listener, nodding at the right parts and keeping silent throughout. He lets Jeongin ramble despite him stammering, hands shaking while his entire body feels like it’s being put under the afternoon sun. It’s embarrassing. Feelings are embarrassing and now he’s told Seungmin about this and now he—

“Jeongin, relax,” Seungmin calls for him softly, hand reaching out to squeeze Jeongin’s shaking ones. “Are you okay?”

He isn’t, not really. Not when he knows this shit is one-sided and Jeongin feels like absolute shit for not only tricking Jisung’s family but also Jisung. Jisung thinks they’re faking it and Jeongin isn’t. He’s not faking it at all. Not even a little.

“Yes,” he lies, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to gather his bearings. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Then, “Shit, hyung. I shouldn’t have said yes to the date. I didn’t know being around him would bring me back to freshmen year.” He lets out a shaky laugh. Seungmin nods, encouraging. “I didn’t know the feelings I had for him were still there, you know.”

“You know, Jeongin, you really should be nicer to yourself.” Sometimes Jeongin forgets that Seungmin’s older than him, seeing the fact that he’s the youngest in his own family. He acts like a kid, too, but this — Seungmin squeezing his hand in reassurance, smiling down at him, he thinks that Seungmin would be a great older brother, too. Jeongin blinks, smiling back. “I don’t know how you hid your feelings for him that long but that wasn’t any good, was it? It came back anyway. And here you are.”

Here he is: having a breakdown in his dorm room in the middle of the semester, his roommate calming him down, and Jisung’s unanswered texts on his phone. Here he is.

“I think you should tell him,” Seungmin tells him and Jeongin jumps back in surprise, because why the hell would he do that.

“I don’t think—”

“Do you trust hyung?” Seungmin asks, staring dead into Jeongin’s eyes. “Please trust me on this, Innie. I really think you should tell him.”

“I—” Jeongin considers. It’d be nice to get closure, too, and he doesn’t think he could go back to being friends with Jisung after having a glimpse of what it’s like to date Jisung; to kiss Jisung. “I — okay. Okay, hyung. I trust you.”

`i’ll pick u up like usual`

`okay hyung  
` `see u`

The days stretch out dreadfully slow but Saturday comes eventually.

Jeongin stands behind his room’s door for the entire fifteen minutes before seven, hands sweaty and clammy around the bouquet he’s holding. It’s sunflowers this time and it’s a little big, but it’s okay. He’s nervous, rightfully so and paces about the door, waiting for Jisung’s text telling him that he’s ready.

“Jeongin-ah,” Seungmin calls and Jeongin snaps out of his thoughts, twists around to look at Seungmin. “Stop pacing about. You’ll be okay, I promise. You trust hyung, right?”

“I’m going to fucking piss my pants,” Jeongin hisses, heart jackhammering against his chest. He doesn’t know what’s the difference between today and last week’s — maybe it’s the fact that he finally acknowledges his feelings this time. Maybe it’s also Seungmin who has been egging him on to finally tell Jisung today.

Then, his phone vibrates.

“Love on, lover boy!” Seungmin laughs, getting up from his bed to push Jeongin out of his dorm himself. The moment the door behind him is slammed shut, the door across him opens wide and he finds himself face-to-face yet again with Jisung.

Jeongin’s heart gets caught in his chest and _oh_ , it’s nice to allow himself to find Jisung beautiful.

“You’re beautiful,” Jeongin blurts out before he could even catch his words back into his mouth. His eyes widen in shock and Jisung mirrors him, hand frozen over his doorknob. Then, his face breaks into a wide grin and laughs.

“Thanks, Innie,” Jisung says, finally twisting his key into the lock. It’s silly. Jisung’s wearing a button down again, this time tucked into a pair of black cargo pants and his signature Docs on. It’s his usual get up but at the same time it’s different because, well, the person seeing is different now. He’s allowed to find Jisung beautiful and not have it buried deep at the back of his mind, collecting dust. “So are you.”

“Thanks,” he squeaks out. He hears a cough from behind his door. Shit. “Um, these are for you.”

“For me?” Jisung stares at the bouquet of sunflowers in Jeongin’s outstretched hand and stays still, unmoving. Jeongin hopes Jisung can’t tell that he’s absolutely wrecked, the sunflowers shaking a little because _he was_. Eventually Jisung accepts the bouquet and smiles. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t have.”

“But I wanted to,” he tells Jisung as they walk down the corridor. They’re walking side by side, Jeongin’s hand so close to brushing with Jisung’s. So he grabs his wrist and slides his fingers into Jisung’s. He squeezes them and Jisung squeezes back, fingers curled around his own. “I wanted to get them for you, hyung.”

Jisung laughs, looking downwards. “Okay,” he says, “okay.”

When Jisung’s mother opened the door to the both of them, she greeted them both with a bone-crushing hug. She only lets them go when Jisung screams, “Mum, my flowers!”

Now the flowers sit in a vase, Jisung himself placing it inside the vase, in his bedroom. A piece of Jeongin in his bedroom.

Dinner went well by how amicable his parents are to Jeongin. It wasn’t like any of the dramas or shows he watched with the parents grilling their children’s significant others to smithereens. His brother wasn’t there this time, so Jeongin found himself relaxing a little. No grillings. Jisung’s parents weren’t like that; they treated him like how his parents himself would with kindness and easy banter. Jisung’s dad made him a fucking _wrap_. This only made the heaviness in his chest more apparent at the thought that they didn’t know this was all fake. They were all pretending — well Jisung at least was. Not him.

Jeongin feels like walking into traffic.

As Jisung does the dishes this time, forcing Jeongin down to his seat with a glare and a hand on his shoulder, he ends up at the dining table cutting fruits with his mother.

“Jeongin-ah,” she calls his name as if he were her own son. Jeongin looks up and puts the cut-up pear onto a plate. “You seem to really like our Jisung.”

The knife he’s holding cuts through the pear a little too hard, hitting the cutting board with a loud thud. Jisung’s mother seems unbothered as she continues cutting.

“I didn’t think our Jisung would finally date, you know,” she continues. Jeongin has stopped cutting the pears at this point. “We always tried to matchmake him with family friends’ kids.” She cuts the last pear from the bowl into half, handing Jeongin the other half and cuts it into smaller pieces. She smiles at him, eyes bright and sparkling. “Turns out he’s doing all good by himself, hmm?”

Reluctantly, Jeongin picks the knife up back again and goes back to slicing the pear. _Thud_.

“Right.” _Thud_. “I really like Jisung.” _Thud_.

“That’s good,” she replies, nodding, “that’s really good.”

In his peripheral view, Jisung closes the water tap and wipes his hands clean on the front of his pants like a goddamn caveman that has never known what a towel was. But Jeongin smiles anyway. Wait. What the fuck. He’s endeared by this caveman behaviour? Jeongin turns to look fully at Jisung now, right as Jisung looks up and they lock eyes.

“Alright, we’re done,” Jisung’s mother says, picking up the cut up pears from Jeongin’s cutting board and uses her own knife to push them down into a bowl. She picks it up and nods at Jisung, who was still staring and Jeongin and Jeongin at Jisung. “Are you done? It’s movie time.”

▶️

This is pretend. 

But Jeongin’s not sure if he is.

“Are you sure?” Jisung whispers, leaning closer into Jeongin, “sorry about this movie part. I know it wasn’t planned. Do you wanna go back?”

“Um, no,” Jeongin replies, squeezing Jisung’s hand again. “I’m okay. Really.”

Jisung doesn’t buy it and he looks like he doesn’t too, mouth downturned into a frown. They sat huddled together on a loveseat, while his parents sat across them on a bigger couch. They both were sitting identical to them — hands held together, her head on her husband’s shoulder, and him with a hand on his wife’s thigh. What they had was real; was love.

And suddenly Jisung’s thigh against his, his hand in his hold felt like the sun had scorched him.

So he lets go.

“I,” he begins, standing up, ignoring everyone else in the room, especially Jisung. _Especially_ him, when he’s looking at Jeongin like that: confused, surprised, _what the fuck?_ “I’m going to grab a drink.”

“I’ll come with.”

Jeongin lets Jisung follow along behind him and doesn’t stop to turn back until he reaches the kitchen, for a mug, towards the—

“Dude, hey, what the fuck was that?” Jisung pulls his wrists a little too hard and Jeongin was already shaking from the beginning. The plum juice spills out of the bottle and onto the front of his shirt and they both freeze. Jeongin takes a shaky exhale at the coldness against his front as he watches Jisung’s shoulder slowly sag. He grabs the mug and bottle of drink out of Jeongin’s hand and pulls Jeongin towards a narrow hall, towards his bedroom.

The door closes with a resounding click.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jisung-hyung,” Jeongin says at Jisung’s back as he rummages through his closet. Jisung continues to look through his closet, the hangers holding his clothes slapping loudly against each other. “Hyung.” Jisung still doesn’t turn. He feels so fucking sick. “Jisung-hyung, please.”

“Can you just go through this one fucking movie?” Jisung huffs out, finally pulling a hoodie off its hangers and throwing it at Jeongin a little too harshly. Jeongin doesn’t make a move to catch it. It falls to the floor, by his feet. “Look, it’s just an hour. And then we’re done. You don’t have to do this again. I know how much you hate—”

“That’s just the thing.” Jeongin’s hands are fucking shaking so hard he has to press his nails against his palm to stop. Fuck. The butterflies in his stomach isn’t even fucking helping. “I don’t hate it.”

Jisung finally _finally_ looks up at Jeongin, bewildered.

“What?”

Jeongin wills himself to not look at anywhere else but the floor, at the hoodie lying by his feet, the sunflowers he got Jisung sitting at the corner of his desk — anything as long as it isn’t Jisung’s fucking face. He doesn’t think he’d do it if he does.

“I like you. I’ve liked you for some time now, hyung. Ever since I saw you across the hall in freshmen year,” he says quietly, nails digging into his palm to ground himself. “But I know you’d never see me like that, romantically, you know, so I just — I just buried it down. But then—”

He tilts his head back, letting out a bitter laugh. He can’t believe this is how it’ll go down.

“But then you asked me on that date and I was like sure, whatever. I thought my feelings were long gone and the dinner happened. We held hands, you called me your boyfriend and we kissed—”

“Jeongin—”

“And all this to trick your family when what we have isn’t even real in the slightest. I feel so fucking _bad_ , Jisung-hyung. Your mum told me she’s fucking glad you met me. We’re not even fucking dating.”

“Innie—”

“So I’m sorry,” he interrupts Jisung, voice breaking halfway through, “I can’t do this anymore knowing that what we have is fake when I’m in love with you.”

Jeongin widens his eyes in shock and watches Jisung look at him, the realisation slowly dawning on him in his eyes.

 _10\. DO NOT FALL IN LOVE LOL_ broken just like that.

“Oh,” is all Jisung says, so Jeongin accepts it as it is, that Jisung will never be his, and picks up the hoodie by his feet. “You know, Jeongin,” Jisung says, sounding like he’s suffocating, “I’m beginning to think that you don’t really hate me after all.”

What the fuck.

Jeongin snaps his head towards Jisung, glaring. “I literally just told you that I love you. Are you, like? Fucking stupid? Were you dropped—”

Jisung drags him into a kiss then and Jeongin feels like he’s floating, his initial frustration melting away. It’s addicting; the kiss. Soft, tender, and Jisung tastes like pears. He drops the hoodie back onto the floor to bring a hand up to hold Jisung by the waist, Jisung’s own hand on Jeongin’s cheek, thumb rubbing gentle circles against it.

Jeongin pulls away first and has the privilege to see Jisung chasing after him.

“What does this mean?” he stammers out, forehead thumping against Jisung’s.

“Well, it means I love you, too, idiot,” Jisung says finally and leans back in, a whimper caught in Jeongin’s throat that Jisung eagerly swallows down. This time it’s Jisung that pulls back, just slightly, and asks, “Did it ever go through your thick skull that I chose you as the fake date and not the rest of our friends?”

Jeongin furrows his brows, pushing Jisung an arm’s length away.

“I could have asked Felix, a _theatre_ major, to do this with me,” Jisung says slowly, a bright smile spreading across his face as he speaks. “And I chose you. The one who got a B- in their drama class.”

“Oi!”

“I’m saying I love you, too. Not since the beginning but somewhere along the way it happened. And when I lied to my parents about having a boyfriend already, you were the first to pop in my mind.”

Jeongin doesn’t say anything. He stares resolutely at Jisung and watches how his face slowly turns red by the second, from the tips of his ears and down to his neck.

“And then the dinner happened and I wanted so bad to kiss you in the kitchen. Like, you felt it, too, right? And then I just — I caught myself before I fell deeper. I had to remind myself that this wasn’t real and you were just here for a free meal.”

Jeongin lets out a shuddering breath then.

“Oh,” Jeongin sniffs, “is that why you kind of just...ghosted me after that?”

Jisung shudders in his hold. “Yeah,” he answers, eyes boring into Jeongin’s, “the thought that I wanted you more than ever since that night fucking scared me. Like, seeing you fitting so well with my family. I was just, you know, didn’t want to show that I was desperate for this. For us.” He pauses. “You.”

Jeongin smiles. So was he. So was he.

“We’re both desperate, which was why I agreed for this dinner, too,” Jeongin finally says, locking his fingers together at the small of Jisung’s back. He offers him a small smile. “Both wanting a glimpse into how we’d be dating.”

Jisung’s eyes sparkle. “Oh, that was just a trial,” he teases, shrugging, “would you like the premium one?”

“What do I get? Because the contract doesn’t say anything about a premium version.” Jeongin pulls Jisung closer, the tips of their noses touching. The air around them seems to buzz with the same sort of electricity from the last time they were in the kitchen and Jeongin has no intention of cutting it off anytime soon. Not now and not anytime soon in the future.

“Me,” Jisung replies, smiling, “All of me. All yours. No pretence this time.”

And then they both lean in, lips finding home against each other.

It isn't pretend this time. Jeongin knows now that it’s real. All of it — real.

(When Jeongin and Jisung finally leave his bedroom, Jeongin now in Jisung’s hoodie and their hand interlocked with each other, the movie’s credits have already started rolling. The pear bowl’s left out empty and Jisung’s dad flickers up to meet Jeongin dead in the eye. His mum hides a grin behind her palm.

“Well, I hope the both of you are practicing—”

“Dad!” Jisung screeches. Jeongin feels hot suddenly, ears burning in shame.)

Jeongin has made several mistakes in his 20 years of living.

“Yang Jeongin! Look!”

Jeongin opens his eyes, sighs, and turns to his right. And there was Han Jisung in all his glory with a beaming smile plastered on his face at the end of the snack aisle. He doesn’t even look undeterred at Jeongin’s lack of reaction, only smiling wider and takes a stomp or two to finally reach Jeongin.

“You know,” Jeongin says slowly, struggling to not smile at how adorable his boyfriend looked like with an armful of cereal boxes. His _boyfriend_. That was what Jisung was. His boyfriend. “We’re here for _my_ grocery run. I don’t need that many cereals and I don’t even eat those.”

Jisung shrugs and dumps the boxes into his trolley. So far all it holds are packets of ramen, two bottles of Coke, and one single box of granola bars. It’s the broke college student in him choosing and picking all of these, along with his bank account.

“Well, _I_ eat these and I want them when I come over your dorm—”

“You’re there all the time already,” Jeongin laughs, “so I don’t see why—”

“Expand your diet, idiot,” Jisung huffs, reaching up to flick his forehead. He pushes Jeongin away from the handle bar and pushes through the aisle. “And now! Fruits!”

And Jeongin lets Jisung. He lets Jisung drag him around the grocery store until his trolley’s packed with Actual Food, as Jisung says it, and with much negotiation, only one packet of ramen and Coke each. Eh. Somewhat fair. And also he loves Jisung. So he lets him.

Which is why, when they’re both back in Jisung’s jeep and he somehow refuses to exit the parking lot to get something, Jeongin lets him.

But somehow Jisung’s still in his driver’s seat, showing no desire to move anytime soon.

“You said you wanted to get something?” Jeongin asks, pulling the seatbelt across his body. He looks at Jisung, only to find him already looking at him.

“Well, yeah,” he replies, shrugging, “it isn’t in the store though.”

“That’s fine, I think there’s another—”

“I mean here I am,” Jisung interrupts him, sighing and leaning closer to Jeongin, “driving my boyfriend all the way to get groceries for him. Don’t you think you should return the favour?”

Jeongin laughs but plays along, leaning closer till they’re inches apart, the tips of their noses brushing against each other.

“And what is it that you want in return for that, Jisung-hyung?”

“A kiss please,” Jisung requests, puckering up his lips with his eyes squeezed shut. Jeongin rolls his eyes but gives in anyway, leaning in and kissing Jisung, open-mouthed. It’s hard kissing in a car, even if it was a goddamn jeep. Jisung whimpers into the kiss, wanting more, and grabs a hold of Jeongin’s jaw to pull him in closer. Jeongin pulls away, hand against Jisung’s cheek.

“I’d love to kiss you some more but my knees are hurting against the console.” At Jisung’s pout, Jeongin leans in for another kiss, softer this time. “Better?”

“Is Seungmin back at the dorms?”

Jeongin looks at him, confused.

“No? He’s left to visit his parents — why?”

“So we can continue this back in your room then?” Jisung asks, wiggling his eyebrows like the greasy little fucker that he is. But of course, Jeongin lets him do just that and pulls him in for another quick kiss before pulling out of the parking lot. Jeongin feels so warm, contented, with Jisung’s hand on his thigh throughout the whole ride back to their dorms.

Jeongin knows he’s made several mistakes and more throughout his 20 years of living.

But falling in love with Jisung definitely isn’t one of them. Never has been and never will be.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so so much for reading! and if you think the entire point of this fic was to write jisung driving a jeep, ure absolutely right


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